


The Lash of His Tongue

by Magnetism_bind



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Minor Violence, Verbal Humiliation, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus is ashamed of the effect Esca's insults have upon him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lash of His Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Five Acts Meme on LJ.

_When I get the chance, I will kill you._

Esca still smarts from the words. When Marcus spoke them earlier they were merely a pitiful retaliation. Esca hadn't deemed them worthy of a response. 

Now, surrounded by the men of the Seal tribe as they gathered for their evening meal, he can't help the ache that stole over him. In spite of everything, he had still hoped that Marcus would somehow trust him. Now Esca knows that faint hope has been a foolish one.

He reaches for the wine, drinking deeply.

“Your slave was insolent today.” Lithian speaks at last.

“I offered his death to you and you didn't take it.” Esca manages to sound civil. He is still a guest among these people and must tread carefully. The wine settles low in his belly, warm and soothing.

“That I did,” Lithian admits. “It was generous of you. Yet...”

“Speak.” Esca drinks more wine. 

“I would see him punished for his actions. If you agree.” The Seal Prince waits, searching Esca's face intently. “So that he may serve you better in future.”

Esca shrugs, letting his worry for Marcus slide from his shoulders like an abandoned mantle. He does not have to concern himself with the Roman tonight. He still owes Marcus his oath; he will save him...but tonight he is a guest among the Seal Tribe, and Marcus is only his slave.

“Do you want him brought in here?”

“If that suits you.” Lithian says courteously.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we could pit him against one of my men. Romans like to watch their slaves fight in the arena, I'm told. Perhaps it would be a good lesson for him.”

Esca's throat tightens. “They do have that custom.” For a moment he's back there, sprawled in the dirt, the crowd roaring for his death. 

_Life._

“Very well.” Lithian claps him on the shoulder. “More wine, and you,” he jerks his head toward two of his men. “Go fetch the Roman slave.”

Esca chews a piece of meat carefully, letting it settle in his stomach. The wine is starting to take effect, and he needs a clear head for whatever Lithian is about to start. He wishes desperately that he could lose himself in drink, but that is a coward's way.

 

* * * 

 

Marcus is mending one of the fishing nets when the two warriors come come to get him. They kick at him, pulling him to his feet. There's no point in fighting though so he goes, letting himself be pushed along before them. When they come to the main hut, they shove him roughly through the door and he falls to his knees before all of them. Including Esca, who's sitting there beside the Seal Prince.

Marcus ducks his head before they can see the rage inside him. His cheek still stings from earlier. _Get on your knees._ Esca had ordered it with such fury. Now... Marcus doesn't know what to think. He's no longer certain of anything and all too aware of the danger surrounding him. 

The Seal Prince speaks close to Esca's ear, and for a moment Esca just looks at him, then he laughs. The sound of it makes Marcus's gut churn. His hands clench against his thighs. Esca says something in return and the Seal Prince lets out a long chortle of merriment. He nods and Esca rises, approaching Marcus coolly.

“Get up.”

Marcus pushes himself to his feet. He glares down at Esca defiantly, reminding the Briton that he is the larger in stature and strength. Esca merely regards him, amusement lurking at the corner of his mouth.

“You're to fight one of them.” He nods at the men surrounding them. “Whichever Lithian chooses.”

The indignity of makes Marcus flush. “You cannot make me.” He will not fight for their amusement like...his thought trails off as he sees the look in Esca's eye.

Esca's mouth curls. “I can do what I like with you. You're my slave.”

“I am no man's slave.” Marcus growls, ignoring the way Esca's words make his skin warm.

“Tonight, you are mine.” Esca tells him, stepping in closer. He's so close to Marcus that he could wrap his arms around Esca's throat. Marcus tells himself this, even as he stands there, unmoving.

“You will fight if I command it. You will follow any command I give you, like a dog, and if you do not, you will be punished like one. Understood?” The look Esca gives him is fierce. 

Marcus swallows. He can't explain the tightness in his groin at Esca's words, the way the Briton had spoken to him. It's humiliating, yet his cock thickens beneath his tunic. Marcus stares at the ground, trying to think about anything else.

Esca's eyes narrow. “I asked you a question.” 

His voice is low and rough, and Marcus stammers a response before he knows what he's doing.

“Yes.” He says. “I understand.”

“Good.” Esca turns to say something to Lithian, then he looks back at Marcus. “Wait there.”

They're clearing a space in the middle of the hut around the fire. Marcus waits, and tries to still the twisting nervous sensation inside him. He watches Esca out of the corner of his eye.

At last Esca beckons to him. 

The opponent the Seal Prince has chosen is a tall, well-muscled warrior. Marcus vaguely remembers him as one of the ones who was with Lithian when and his men first came across them. 

_You'd be dead in a ditch without me!_

Marcus winces at the memory. 

Someone shouts something at him, pushing Marcus forward. He half turns to... To what? Fight? Argue? Marcus himself doesn't know, and then Esca calls him across the hut.

“ _Marcus._ ”

Marcus moves forward automatically.“Where's the sword?” 

Esca glances at him. “No weapons, Marcus.”

“I'm to fight him empty-handed?” Marcus can't hide his surprise, or his anger. They mean for him to fight the man like...like.a common slave. Even a gladiator was worthy of a sword.

“Yes.” Esca says. “What...you think a Roman can't best him without a weapon?” The taunt is there. “You're right. You'll end up flat on your back with his foot on your throat. If you're lucky.”

“You don't know that.” Marcus retorts. 

“Then prove me wrong.” Esca gestures toward the clear space. “And fight.”

Marcus takes a deep breath and steps forward. The men form a circle around Marcus and his opponent. The Seal warrior grins at him widely, flexing his hands and laughing at the remarks of his friends. Marcus's palms are sweaty. The smoke from the fire clouds his eyes and he wipes them on his sleeve. Someone shouts; there's a roar of laughter. Marcus drops his arm and looks around. 

Esca's arms are folded tight across his chest as he looks at the Roman. “They say your tears are weak. You're not worthy to fight one of them. You should beg on your knees to be fucked instead.”

The Briton's voice is calm. He's translating, but it's clear to Marcus that Esca agrees with them. Marcus shakes the words off. He meets Esca's gaze steadily. 

The Seal warrior moves in, ready to attack. They circle each other warily. Marcus waits for the right movement to attack, but his focus is off, knowing Esca is watching. The warrior gets the first strike in, a quick lunge, wrapping his arms around Marcus's torso, forcing him to the ground. Marcus struggles wildly. Pulling his arms free, he elbows the man violently in the head and scrambles away. The noise of the hut is overwhelming. Marcus's blood sings with adrenaline and tension. 

“Not bad.” Esca calls to him. “Though hardly worthy of a Roman centurion. If Rome saw you now, she'd laugh in your face and spit at your feet.”

At that Marcus looks up, stung once again. This fresh insult sends a wave of heat down his torso. The words shouldn't hurt, shouldn't make his whole body ache with shame and hunger, but they do. The Seal warrior moves in again, Marcus avoids his blow, but loses his balance, tripping over the rough ground. He falls amid the laughter around him. Gritting his teeth, Marcus stands. He is a Roman...perhaps no longer a centurion, but he is still a Roman. His back is straight as he faces his opponent one more. 

This time Marcus gets several blows of his own in, making the warrior grunt. They tussle, rolling over and over. Marcus scrambles away at the last moment, panting. 

How much longer will this go on? 

He casts an eye toward Esca, hopefully...in spite of himself. In spite of everything, Marcus still hopes.

They fight on. Marcus holds his own, but each time the Seal warrior strikes, there's a roar of encouragement from the men, and Esca's words...stripping Marcus of everything he has till he's only aware of the blood singing in his veins, and the Briton's voice as it continues his torment.

At the end, Esca's not completely right. Marcus ends up on his stomach in the dirt, the warrior pushing his face into the dirt. Marcus's refusal to stop struggling earns him a blow to the side. He's lying too close to the fire now. Through the dancing flames, he can see Esca still talking to the Seal Prince. Marcus imagines their speech.

_He's weak. Why would you keep such a pathetic slave? That one a warrior, pah!_

Slowly Marcus's struggles grow weaker and weaker, until at last he goes still. The men shout loudly at him. The warrior grabs Marcus by his hair and hauls him up on his knees, shoving him at the feet of Esca and the prince.

“He says you fight like an untried girl. He wonders why I ever bought you in the first place...” Esca's eyes travel over Marcus's body as he gets to his feet. “And that you must have...other qualities to keep my favor.” 

Marcus spits dirt from his mouth. He can't bring himself to look up at Esca now. Frankly, he's surprised that that particular humiliation hasn't been forced upon him yet. The thought of it makes him hard again and he keeps his face downcast.

Esca's silent for so long that at last Marcus is finally forced to raise his eyes. 

Lithian is amused, no surprise there, yet Marcus can't read Esca's expression. For a breath of a heartbeat they stare at each other. 

Then Esca jerks his head quickly. “You can go."

Marcus flees the hut as though his skin were afire. 

 

* * *

 

He goes to where the horses are penned, out of sight from the hut. There, he tries to catch his breath, but his heart is yet pounding. Even now his cock strains hungrily for Esca. The shame of it overwhelms Marcus and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a bellow of rage.

“Marcus.”

Marcus whirls. Esca stand there in the dark, a slender shadow of a man. A man Marcus should not want. 

“Can you not leave me in peace?” Marcus shouts, his voice ragged. “Is it not enough that I ache from the sound of your voice...the insults you throw at me like I'm nothing but dust beneath your feet...that my cock stiffens at the mere thought of you using me.” 

Tears sting his eyes. Tears of shame, and lust and confusion. Marcus brushes at them angrily. 

“Come here.” Esca orders. 

“I am _not_ your slave!” Marcus shouts. 

Esca's hands tighten. In an instant he's shoving Marcus back against the fence. “You are mine. Mine.” He hisses the words, his fingers digging hard into Marcus's flesh. “Here you belong to me.”

Marcus groans as Esca breaks his grip to slip his hand between the Roman's thighs. His slim fingers wrap around Marcus's cock, pulling at it roughly.

“Esca.”

Esca murmurs as he strokes Marcus off, but the words are in his own tongue. Marcus doesn't understand them. They could still be insults, yet they sound strangely tender on his tongue. Marcus doesn't care. All he cares is the touch on his body, the words pouring over his skin as Esca works his cock. 

“Come for me, Marcus.” Esca whispers. “Come, for me.”

Marcus succumbs.


End file.
